A Damaged Reputation

by Harold Bindloss

  XXVII.

  THE LAST ROUND.

  The whistle screamed hoarsely as the long train swung out from theshadow of the pines, and Brooke raised himself stiffly in his seat in abig, dusty car. A sawmill veiled in smoke and steam swept by, and, whilethe roar of wheels sank to a lower pitch, he caught the gleam of theblue inlet Vancouver City is built above ahead. Then, as the clusteringroofs, which seamed the hillside ridge on ridge with a maze of poles andwires cutting against the background of stately pines grew plainer, hestraightened his back with an effort. It was aching distressfully, andhe felt dizzy as well as stiff, while he commenced to wonder whether hisstrength would hold out until he had seen Devine and finished hisbusiness in the city.

  Then the cars lurched a little, there was a doleful tolling of a bell,and when the long, dusty train rolled slowly into the depot he droppedshakily from a vestibule platform. The rough planking did not seem quitesteady, and he struck his feet against the metals when he crossed thetrack, but he managed to reach Devine's office, and found that he wasout. He would, however, be back in another hour, his clerk said, and itoccurred to Brooke that he could, in the meanwhile, consult a doctor.The latter asked him a few questions, and then sat looking at himthoughtfully for a moment or two.

  "It's not quite clear to me how the horse came to fall on you. You weredismounted at the time?" he said. "Still, after all, that's not quitethe question."

  Brooke smiled a little. "No," he said. "I scarcely think it is."

  "Well," said the doctor, drily, "whichever way you managed it, the snowwas either very soft or something else took the weight of the beast offyou, but I don't think you need worry greatly about that fall. Lie downfor a day or two, and rub some of the stuff I give you on the bruises.Now, suppose you tell me what you've been doing for the last fewmonths."

  Brooke did so concisely, and the doctor nodded. "Pretty much as Ifigured," he said. "You want to stop it right away. Go down the Sound ona steamboat, or across to Victoria for two or three weeks, and donothing."

  "I'm afraid that's out of the question."

  The doctor made a little gesture. "Then, if you go on taking it out ofyourself, there'll be trouble, especially if you worry. Go slow, and eatand sleep all you can for a month, anyway."

  Brooke thanked him, and went back to Devine's office thoughtfully. Hefelt that the advice was good, though there were difficulties in the wayof his acting upon it. He had already realized that the strain of thelast few months, the insufficient food, and feverish work, were tellingupon him, but he had made up his mind to hold out until the work at theDayspring was in full swing and the value of the ore lead had been madeclear beyond all doubt. Then there would be time to rest and considerthe position.

  Devine was in when he reached the office, and looked hard at him, but hesaid very little while Brooke told his story. Nor did he appear by anymeans astonished or concerned.

  "Well," he said, reflectively, "it's quite likely that we'll have thepleasure of seeing Mr. Saxton to-morrow. He'll hang off until then, andwhen he comes I'll be ready to talk to him. In the meanwhile, you'recoming home with me."

  Brooke hoped that he did not show the embarrassment he certainly felt,for, much as he longed to see her, it was, after their last meeting,difficult to believe that Barbara would appreciate his company, and hescarcely felt in a mood for another taste of her displeasure.

  "I had decided on going out on the Atlantic express this evening," hesaid. "There is a good deal to do at the Dayspring, and I could scarcelyexpect Mrs. Devine to be troubled with me. Besides, you see, I cameright away----"

  He glanced significantly at his clothes, but Devine, who rose, laid ahand on his shoulder.

  "You're coming along," he said. "I may want you to-morrow."

  Brooke, who felt too languid to make another protest, went with him, andwhen they reached the house on the hillside, Devine led him into a roomwhich looked down on the inlet.

  "Sit down," he said, pointing to a big lounge chair. "I'll send somebodyto look after you, and, unless you look a good deal better than you donow, you'll stay right here to-morrow. In the meanwhile, you'll excuseme. There are one or two folks I have to see in the city."

  He went out, and Brooke, who let his head, which ached a good deal, sinkback upon the soft upholstery, wondered vacantly what Mrs. Devine wouldthink when she saw him there. He still wore the garments he wasaccustomed to at the mine, and, though they were dry now, and, at least,comparatively clean, he felt that long boots and soil-stained jean werea trifle out of place in that dainty room. That, however, did not seemto matter. He was drowsy and a trifle dizzy, while the room was warm,and it was with a little start he heard the door-handle rattle a fewminutes later. Then, while he endeavored to straighten himself, Barbaracame in.

  "I feel that I ought to offer you my excuses for being here, though I amnot sure that I could help it," he said. "Grant Devine is of a somewhatdetermined disposition, and he insisted on bringing me."

  Barbara did not notice him wince as with pain when he turned to her, forshe was not at that moment looking at him.

  "Then why should you make any? It is his house," she said.

  This was not very promising, for Brooke felt it suggested that, althoughthe girl was willing to defer to Devine's wishes, they did notnecessarily coincide with hers.

  "It is!" he said. "Still, I seem to have acquired the sense of fitnessyou once mentioned, and I feel I should not have come. One is, however,not always quite so wise as he ought to be, and I was feeling a trifleworn out when your brother-in-law invited me. That probably accountedfor my want of firmness."

  Barbara glanced at him sharply, and noticed the gauntness of his faceand the spareness of his frame, which had become accentuated since shehad last seen him. It also stirred her to compassion, which was probablywhy she endeavored, as she had done before, to harden her heart againsthim.

  "No doubt you spent last night in the saddle, and the trails would bebad," she said. "I believe they are getting some tea ready, and, in themeanwhile, how are you progressing at the mine?"

  Brooke realized that she had heard nothing about his ride or thejumping of the Canopus, and determined that she should receive noenlightenment from him. This may have been due to wounded pride, but itafterwards stood him in good stead. Nor would he show that her chillygraciousness, which went just as far as the occasion demanded and nofurther, hurt him, and he accordingly roused himself, with an effort, totalk about the mine. The girl had usually appeared interested in thesubject, and it was, at least, a comparatively safe one.

  She, on her part, noticed the weariness in his eyes, and found itnecessary to remind herself of his offences, for the story he told wasnot without its effect on her. It was, though he omitted most of his owndoings, a somewhat graphic one, and she realized a little of thestruggle he and the handful of men Devine had been able to send him hadmade, half-fed, amidst the snow. Still, for no very apparent reason, hiscomposure and the way he kept himself in the background irritated her.

  "One would wonder why you put up with so much hardship. Wasn't it alittle inconsequent?" she said.

  Brooke's gaunt face flushed. "Well," he said, "one is under the painfulnecessity of earning a living."

  "Still, could it not be done a little more easily?"

  "I don't know that it is, under any circumstances, a remarkably simplething, but that is not quite the question, and, since you seem toinsist, I'll answer you candidly. In my case, it was almostastonishingly inconsequent--that is, as I expect you mean, about thelast thing any one would naturally have expected from me. Still, I feltthat, after what I had done, I had a good deal to pull up, you see;though that is a motive with which, as I noticed when I mentioned itonce before, you apparently can scarcely credit me."

  Barbara smiled. "It was your own actions that made it difficult."

  "I admitted on another occasion that I am not exactly proud of them, butthere was some slight excuse. There usually is, you see."

  "Of course!" said Bar
bara. "You need not be diffident. In your casethere were the dollars of which my brother-in-law plundered you."

  Brooke looked at her with a little glint in his eyes. "You," he said,slowly, "can be very merciless."

  "Well," said Barbara, who met his gaze with quiet composure, "I mighthave been less so had I not expected quite so much from you. After all,it does not greatly matter--and here is the tea."

  "I think it matters a good deal, but perhaps we needn't go into that,"said Brooke, who took the cup she handed him. "You have poured out teafor me on several occasions now, but still, each one recalls the firsttime you did it at the Quatomac ranch."

  The same thing had happened to Barbara, but she laughed. "It,presumably, made no difference to the tea, and yours runs some risk ofgetting cold."

  Brooke appeared to be holding his cup with quite unnecessary firmness,and she fancied his color was a trifle paler than it had been, but hesmiled.

  "I really do not remember that it tasted any the worse," he said."Perhaps you can remember how the sound of the river came in through theopen door that night, and the light flickered in the draughts. It showedup your face in profile, and I can still picture Jimmy sitting by thestove, with his mouth wide open, watching you. He had evidently neverseen anything of the kind before."

  Barbara noticed the manner in which he pulled himself up, and realizedthat the sentence had deviated from its natural conclusion. It was,though he had certainly been guilty of obtaining what she was pleased toconsider her esteem by a course of disgraceful imposition, gratifyingthat he should be able to recall that evening. That, however, was not tobe admitted.

  "I remember that the two candles were stuck in whisky bottles," shesaid. "You removed them somewhat suddenly when you came in."

  Brooke smiled, but his face was a trifle grey in patches now, and thecup was shaking visibly. "I really shouldn't have done," he said."Still, you see, I was a trifle flurried that night, and like Jimmy inone respect, in that I had never----"

  "You, at least, had been handed tea by a lady before," said Barbara,severely.

  "I had, but the incomplete explanation still holds good. Well, it was,no doubt, unwise of me to take those candlesticks away, since todisguise one's habits for a stranger's benefit naturally implies adeficiency of becoming pride, and it could, in any case, only have madethe thing more palpable to you."

  "One's habits?" said Barbara, who would not admit comprehension.

  Brooke nodded. "Men," he said, "do not, as a rule, buy whisky bottles tomake candlesticks of, and there were, as I believe you noticed, a goodmany more of them already on the floor. Still, you see, your goodopinion--was--important to me, and I was willing to cheat you intobestowing it on me even then. It matters--it really does matter--a gooddeal."

  Then there was a crash, and Brooke's cup struck the leg of the chair,while his plate rolled across the floor, and Barbara's dress wassplashed with tea. The man sat gripping the chair arm hard, and blinkingat her, while his face grew grey; but when she rose he apparentlyrecovered himself with an effort.

  "Very sorry!" he said, slowly. "Quite absurd of me! Still, I have had agood deal to do--and very little sleep--lately."

  Barbara was wholly compassionate now. "Sit still," she said, quietly. "Iwill bring you a glass of wine."

  "No," said Brooke, a trifle unevenly. "I must have kept you here half anhour already, and I am afraid I have spoiled your dress into thebargain. That ought to be enough. If you don't mind, I think I will goand lie down."

  He straightened himself resolutely, and Barbara, who called thehouse-boy, stood still, with a warm tinge in her face, when he went outof the room. The man was evidently worn out and ill, and yet he hadendeavored to hide the fact to save her concern, while she had found amost unbecoming pleasure in flagellating him. He had met her veryslightly-veiled reproaches with a composure which, she surmised, had notcost him a little, even when his strength was melting away from him.Then she flushed a still ruddier color as she remembered that, in anycase, dissimulation was a strong point of his, for she felt distinctlyangry with herself for recollecting it.

  She had engagements that evening, and did not see him, while he hadapparently recovered during the night, for, when she came down tobreakfast, Mrs. Devine told her that he had already gone out with herhusband. In point of fact, an eight-hours' sleep had done a good dealfor Brooke, who lunched, or rather dined, with Devine in the city, andthen went with him to his office to wait until the Pacific express camein.

  "The train's up to schedule time. I sent to ask them at the depot,"said Devine. "I guess we'll have Mr. Saxton here in another tenminutes."

  The prediction was warranted, for he had about half smoked the cigar helighted when Saxton was shown in. The latter was dressed tastefully incity clothes, and wore a flower in his buttonhole. He also smiled as heglanced at Brooke.

  "It was quite a good game you put up, and you got away five minutesbefore I did," he said. "Still, three men are a little too many to jumpa claim when I'm one of them."

  Brooke's face grew a trifle grim, for he saw Saxton's meaning, butDevine regarded the latter with a faint, sardonic smile.

  "Sit down and take a cigar," he said. "I guess you came here to talk tome, and Mr. Brooke never meant to jump the claim."

  "No?" and Saxton assumed an appearance of incredulity very well. "Now Iquite figured that he did."

  "You can fix it with him afterwards," said Devine. "It seems to me thatwe're both here on business."

  "Then we'll get down to it. I have put in a record on the Canopus mine.I guess you know your patent's not quite straight on a point or two."

  "You're quite sure of that?"

  "The Crown people seem to be. Now, I can't draw back my claim withoutthrowing the mine open to anybody, but I'm willing to hold on and trademy rights to you when I've got my improvements in. Of course, you'd haveto make it worth while, but I'm not going to be unreasonable."

  Devine laughed a little. "There was once a jumper who figured he'd foundthe points you mentioned out. He wanted eight thousand dollars. Wouldyou be content with that?"

  "No," said Saxton, drily. "I'm going to strike you for more."

  There was silence for a moment or two, and Brooke leaned forward alittle as he watched his companions. Saxton was a trifle flushed inface, and his dark eyes had an exultant gleam in them, while the thin,nervous fingers of one hand were closed upon the edge of the table. Hisexpression suggested that he was completely satisfied with himself andthe strength of his position, for it apparently only remained for him toexact whatever terms he pleased. Devine's attitude was, however, notquite what one would have expected, for he did not look in the leastlike a man who felt himself at his adversary's mercy. He sat smiling alittle, and trifling with his cigar.

  "Well," he said, reflectively, "I guess the man I mentioned was sorry heasked quite as much as he did. What is your figure?"

  "I'll wait your bid."

  Devine sat still for several moments, with the little sardonic smilegrowing plainer in his eyes, and Brooke, who felt the tension, fanciedthat Saxton was becoming uneasy. There was a curious silence in theroom, through which the whirr of an elevator jarred harshly.

  "One dollar," he said.

  Saxton gasped. "Bluff!" he said. "That's not going to count with me. Youwant a full hand to carry it through, and the one you're holding isn'tstrong enough. Now, I'll put down my cards."

  "One dollar," said Devine, drily.

  Saxton stood up abruptly, and gazed at him in astonishment, withquivering fingers and tightening lips. "I tell you your patent's nogood."

  "I know it is."

  Again there was silence, and Brooke saw that Saxton was holding himselfin with difficulty.

  "Still, you want to keep your mine," he said.

  "You can have it for what I asked you, and if you can clear the cost ofworking, it's more than I can do. The Canopus was played out quite awhile ago."

  Even Brooke was startled, and Saxton sat down with all his customa
ryassurance gone out of him. His mouth opened loosely, he seemed to growsuddenly limp, and his cigar shook visibly in his nerveless fingers.

  "Now," he said, and stopped while a quiver of futile anger seemed to runthrough him, "that's the last thing I expected. What'd you put up thatwire sling for? I can't figure out your game."

  Devine laughed. "It's quite easy. You have just about sense enough toworry anybody, or you wouldn't have dumped that ore into the Dayspring,and worked off one of the richest mines in the province on to me. Well,when I saw you meant to strike me on the Canopus, I just let you get towork because it suited me. I figured it would keep you busy while I tookout timber-rights and bought up land round the Dayspring. Nobodybelieved in Allonby, and I got what I wanted at quite a reasonablefigure. I'm holding the mine and everything worth while now. There'snothing left for you, and I guess it would be wiser to get hold of a manof your own weight next time."

  Saxton's face was colorless, but he put a restraint upon himself as heturned to Brooke.

  "You knew just what this man meant to do?"

  "Oh, yes," said Devine, drily. "He told me quite a while ago. You'regoing? Haven't you any use for that dollar?"

  Saxton said nothing whatever, but the door slammed behind him, andBrooke, who, in spite of Devine's protests, went back to the Dayspringthat evening, never saw him again.